


See the Sun

by Fruipit



Series: There's A Time For Playing It Safe [3]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Misuse, Angst, F/F, Guilt, POV Second Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Self-Hatred, Smoking, Survivor Guilt, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, elsa's pov, spoilers for Risky Business
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruipit/pseuds/Fruipit
Summary: You never thought you'd see her again when her resume landed on your desk. You'd only wanted to help. Of course it went wrong. Of course you fucked up. You always do.[Scenes from Risky Business retold from Elsa's POV] [HEAVY SPOILERS FOR RISKY BUSINESS]
Relationships: Anna/Elsa (Disney), Kristoff/Sven (Disney: Frozen)
Series: There's A Time For Playing It Safe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573054
Comments: 86
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter One (RB1)

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for HEAVY spoilers for Risky Business. This story does not form its own plot outside of RB; you need to read it for this story to make sense.
> 
> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapter 1, and was published on May 19, 2020.

You’re in the photocopy room when Olaf pops his head in the door.

“Hey,” he says, “The new girl is here. She’s in your office.”

He says it in such a casual manner, but there’s absolutely nothing casual about this at all. Oh god, and she’s early, too, a quick glance to the clock tells you. You give him a nod, acknowledging his words, but you wait until he’s whistling to himself halfway down the hall before you move.

_Oh god she’s here_.

You have an entire half-hallway to mentally prepare yourself, but it’s not enough, and you pause outside your office door for another few seconds. God, look at you. Terrified to go into your own _office_. It’s as though this wasn’t your idea in the first place. As though you hadn’t been keeping an eye on her, waiting, in case she needed a job. Like you hadn’t asked for her specifically when she had.

Closing your eyes and taking a final breath, you push open the door.

Anna isn’t facing you. Her gaze is trained out the window and on the vast cityscape, and it gives you a moment. She’s so _big_. Understandable – she’s an adult – but you’ve refrained from any real contact for a decade. She isn’t a little girl, comatose in a hospital. She’s an adult, who has spent her life living. Her hair is pinned back in a bun (that looks like it’s supposed to be neat, but little wisps have come loose). It almost looks like it’s on fire, but.. like a candle. Soft and gentle. Not an inferno.

She seems to realise that you’re there, because she turns her wheelchair and almost immediately begins stuttering out something. 

She’s even more beautiful from the front. It seems like she slumps a little, when you don’t reply, and she moves herself toward the door. You can’t stop your eyes from flicking to her wheelchair.

_I did that. I ruined her life. Monster._ **_Murderer_ ** _._

You cough lightly in the back of your throat and force a smile. “No, no, I’m sorry, I just- Anna, right? Anna Ackerman?” you ask, as though you haven’t been paying for her medical bills since her thirteenth birthday. As though you haven’t carved her name into your flesh as a depressed sixteen year old, looking for the punishment that, after your father paid them, the courts refuses to administer. “I’m sorry, I just expected you to arrive a little later. The email said 10, didn’t it?”

She rifles through her bag for her phone, tongue poking out to wet her lips before it pauses, too distracted to finish its job. You feel your face relaxing – you feel your _body_ relaxing, because now she’s here. She’s _here_ and you can start paying her back for all you’ve wronged her. No more anonymous benefactors. Now it’s _you_ seeking her forgiveness.

You hold your hand out to her, and just relish in the way she grips your fingers, a little harder than necessary, but so _warm_. 

“Elsa Arendelle,” you say. “And you must be Anna. Obviously.”

She nods, and then gives a laugh that sounds both forced and embarrassed. “I guess they didn’t tell you about the chair.” 

You take a seat on your side of the desk, and you have to force yourself not to say something stupid. “Of course they did,” you say, and then wince at the bluntness of your words. “We had to make sure that all areas you would need would be accessible,” you lie. And maybe you should feel guilty, but there isn’t enough room in your head or your heart. It’s been filled since you were a teenager, and it’s not likely to start emptying anytime soon. “I have, of course, every other area being refitted, but they won’t be complete for a few weeks.”

But Anna seems almost shocked that you’ve given it such thought, and that hurts too because has no one else ever done that?

So you lean across the table and smile, and it maybe feels like a real one (but you don’t really know what that feels like anymore) and, softly, say, “I’m really looking forward to working with you, Anna.”

And as she smiles at you, hope shining in her eyes, you can only think of one thing.

_Please forgive me…_


	2. Chapter Two (RB 11)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapter 11, and was published on May 31, 2020.

The conference room Olaf had picked out isn't one you use normally. You'd actually have preferred to do this in your office, but Olaf wanted to make it all official.

Plus, the conference table is much bigger, and there are a lot of documents to look at while you prepare for everything. God there's so much.

Obviously Sonia had been struggling for a while, but she should have told someone! You would have been able to help. But she hadn't, and she'd messed up and now she's gone – of her own choice – and you need a new PA.

Olaf had suggested Anna, and you don't have any excuse – not any that you can say out loud, at any rate – as to why she shouldn't be given a chance.

And so here you both were, waiting for her to arrive. Olaf's going through the documents; training and rostering and payroll and contracts. Official things. At least this way she'll be getting paid more, too

What if she says no, though? What if she's happy with her job and she doesn't want to work that close to you. Right now she doesn't have any contact with you, nothing regular. It's good. It makes it all manageable; but, it's also not her _choice_. What will happen when you give that to her... and she rejects it?

Swallowing, you chase that thought away as the clock ticks closer to 12:30. What you want doesn't matter: this is about her.

When Anna arrives, you almost miss it because Olaf's talking about reconfiguring holiday pay and leave entitlements with senior staffing; boring stuff that you can't really change without a vote from the board and a discussion with the worker's union. The smile appears on your face without permission. She looks lovely today, wearing slacks and a cute blouse with flowers on the collar. You stand up, but find you can't actually approach her. Olaf has no such concerns, striding over and taking control.

They get the pleasantries out of the way, and Anna's all modest and humble and it makes you smile. It even manages to remain on your face even as she approaches and you feel your body become rigid. What if—?

No, stop it.

"Anna," you say, trying for a greeting but probably failing spectacularly. You lift a hand to shake hers when- that's weird, isn't it? So you try to cover the motion by indicating the table, and then do a mental facepalm because she's in a fucking wheelchair and it's only Olaf's foresight that there's even a free space for her to move up to.

She does, and you look at Olaf because you don't know what to say and this was his idea.

But he clearly thinks differently; you're the CEO, the boss-boss. She's going to be _your_ PA. You know he's not going to speak up, and you know Anna has to feel uncomfortable now, so swallowing, you tear your eyes away from him and turn to the woman sitting next to you.

God you should have written a script or something.

"Anna," you start, voice tight. Public speaking had never been your forte and this is so much more harrowing than it has every right to be. You're looking at Anna, but you're not _looking_ at her. Your eyes have zeroed in on her nose because you can't look in her eyes right now. "There is some... bad news." Bad news comes first, right? Because then you can make it better with good news? That sounds right, so you continue, smiling because that's also good. "We've got a new contractor who is taking over certain areas of the company. Your current position is being outsourced, so your job doesn't exist here anymore. We do have another position for you, though, a-as my personal assistant. You'll have to pack your things because you'll be moving to my floor."

You pause. Olaf is looking at you, smiling proudly. You feel good, like you'd survived.

But then you look at Anna and she has tears in her eyes. Is that- why is she crying?

"Th-thank you for the opportunity to work here," she says, smiling too, which of course only makes yours more pronounced. She didn't say no! She wants this, just as much as you do. "I'll just, uh, get my stuff."

You nod and she begins moving away. There are contracts to sign and protocols to go through, but that can all wait until it gets settled. Once the door closes behind her, you bring a hand up to your head.

"You did well, Elsa," Olaf says. "Although you probably didn't need to tell her about the contractors."

You swallow and nod. "I hope she doesn't feel like this is the only option..." you say softly. "She could work anywhere here – it doesn't have to be right under me."

Olaf shrugs. "It will be good experience. If she ever works anywhere else, it will look really good on her résumé, especially if she continues to be as competent as she's shown herself to be."

Nodding again, you begin gathering up the papers and folios. "I need to make sure they've finished cleaning Sonia's old office, and order a new plaque for Anna. Thank you for your help, Olaf."

He gives an easy smile, grabbing his own folders as he stands up. "Anytime, Elsa. Good luck with everything."

The sentiment is appreciated: God knows you're going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you can see, i'm not doing every chapter. these chapters were all ones i received as asks on tumblr; if you want to see a particular chapter from elsa's pov, let me know!


	3. Chapter Three (RB 20)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapter 20, and was published on June 11, 2020.

You're just coming back from a meeting downtown when you see Anna. She's evidently just returning from a lunch date with the receptionist. He leans down to kiss her hand, and you find it hard to swallow. There's something familiar about him – more familiar than him being another employee. You're not sure what.

Stepping towards the elevator, you hit the button to go up. It's only when you're stepping inside that you realise Anna has followed you. The doors shut and the lift begins moving. It's awfully slow. You cough once, clearing your throat before speaking.

"Nice lunch?" you ask before biting the inside of your lip. Why do you even care?

Well, the answer is obvious. Your and your stupid need to know that she's _okay_.

God-fucking-dammit.

But she doesn't answer for a moment. "It won't happen again." Her voice is low, soft. Is there a reason for it? You swallow.

"What won't happen again?"

She's looking at the floor when you ask that, but she still answers before you have a chance to elaborate.

"I'll keep a better eye on the time. Maybe if I have lunch in my office, I won't be late again?"

Dammit. Your eyebrows furrow because she... thinks she's in trouble? You've made her feel like she's done something bad when she hasn't! How can you fuck up such a simple exchange so bad??

She looks up at you while you're still arguing with yourself, and you know you have to fix this. "Anna," you start, slow, choosing your words carefully. Or trying to. What do you really say to her? That you need to make sure she's happy and well? That you're so much more invested in her life than you have any right to be? Swallowing, you say, "I only asked because you seemed quite…content. You enjoy that young man's company. I wasn't being passive-aggressive. I was genuinely curious."

It's true. She did look like she enjoyed his company. Not like now. Now it's tense and strained and she's probably desperate for the elevator to stop moving so she doesn't have to talk to you anymore.

"Oh."

It's the only thing she says. The only thing she really gets a _chance_ to say because then the elevator is slowing down and the doors are opening and you just have to get away from her so you can preserve some modicum of dignity. Preserve some chance of maybe getting this right the next time it happens. You throw her a tight smile before leaving, but she probably doesn't even notice. As soon as you get back to your office, you close the door behind you and just lean against it, eyes shut.

It's entirely possible – entirely _probable_ – that this whole thing was a mistake. Hiring Anna, promoting her... trying to act like nothing is wrong. It's stupid, doomed to fail.

Everything's all muddled in your head, all these thoughts and feelings. You should be happy that she's- she's _flourishing_ here. She seems so happy and content... except for when you spoke to her. Asked a question and brought down her mood.

You'll just have to make up for it. That's something you can do, right?

It takes a little bit of brainstorming, but you eventually come up with a plan: an excursion. You can go out tomorrow to run some errands and Anna can come with and you can treat her like an actual person instead of... well. You can treat her better than you have been. Make her feel valued.

She's so much more important than she knows. If you can do just one thing for her, if you can just make her happy... then that's a start.


	4. Chapter Four (RB 27)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do plan on going back and doing chapters 22 and 23, but I can always add them later. From my sleuthing, it seems that AO3 is much friendly when it comes to restructuring stories :)
> 
> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapter 27, and was published on June 17, 2020.

You’ve fucked up. That’s all there is to this. You came on too strong, wanted so _desperately_ to make her comfortable that you’ve actually done the opposite.

You’re a fucking disgrace.

The only thing to do is try to make it right – even if you can’t even look her in the eyes right now, even if you can barely _face_ the idea that you’ve hurt her again. You buy a box of chocolates to give to her, as an apology, and all you succeed in doing is making Olaf mad at you, too.

All you’d wanted from him is a signature; he’d noticed the chocolates and asked if you had a gentleman caller.

“N-no. They’re… they’re for Anna. To apologise.”

He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. “This is the problem, Elsa,” he says to you after a few moments. You swallow thickly, shaking your head.

“It’s not the same, I want to say—”

“—Sorry, I know. I get it, Elsa, I do, but this isn’t the way to go about it.”

He probably doesn’t _mean_ to sound as harsh as he does, probably doesn’t _mean_ to make you feel bad, and yet you do. You’ve fucked up, again. You just got lucky that it was with someone else. At least you haven’t hurt Anna again.

Still, there’s no way to mitigate just how utterly _pathetic_ you sound when you say, in a tiny, tiny voice, “How do I say sorry then?”

Olaf sighs again, looking away. “I don’t know, Elsa. Have you tried talking to her?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. You _can’t_. Where would you even start? Anna… you made her uncomfortable. You made her feel unsafe. How do you fix that?

* * *

Olaf suggests a seminar on communication. Which seems ridiculous, and yet it’s patently clear that you… don’t know how to talk to her. To anyone, really. Striking up conversation is… hard. It’s easier to pay people to spend time with you, and leave them when you’re done. There’s no miscommunication, no surprises.

But real, natural interaction isn’t like that, and you hate it. You hate the stress and the fear. There’s always so much going on in your brain, your mind working overtime to prepare and _repair_.

So maybe this will be a good thing, this seminar. Maybe you’ll learn how to actually interact like a goddamned human being for once.

It doesn’t take long to organise, surprisingly. You don’t want to get Anna to do this, so you clear your own calendar and start making phone calls. It costs a little more, but you manage to find a company that can organise a seminar for the following day.

…Okay, so it costs a _lot_ more, but Olaf thinks this will help and the business can afford it.

_You_ can afford it.

You’re one of the first to arrive the following day, finally grateful for your complete inability to sleep in at all. Taking a seat in the auditorium, it’s easy to think back and remember what this was like before you became CEO. Before your father had abdicated his throne at the head of the company and passed it on to you. Arendelle Enterprises had begun as a small company, but Grandfather Runeard had always had an eye for opportunities. Now you’re reaping those rewards.

It’ll be a nice opportunity, you think, to actually talk to the people who make up your company. To get to know them as actual people, not as cogs in the capitalist machine.

Except.. that’s not what happens at all. They all… already know each other. There’s a woman sitting close to you, and you turn to her with a smile. She stands up, greeting someone else before you have a chance to speak.

The smile slips a fraction.

Even the speaker, a charismatic man whose name you don’t catch, doesn’t help. He talks about communication, has people pair or group off to do some activities with each other.

Anna’s down the bottom, talking to the receptionist once more.

And you’re all alone.

As always.


	5. Chapter Five (RB 41)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapter 41, and was published on July 11, 2020.

Even with the jet lag, you find yourself waking up at some ridiculous hour of the morning, after tossing and turning all night. When you fully awaken, you find you can't fall back asleep. Anna is. She's curled up and probably cold, so you get up to turn the heater on a little higher. And then you're already up so you may as well get up properly.

You hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected to have to share a room with her at all; you hate these kinds of surprises.

Turning away, you take your book from where it lies on the bedside table and slip out onto the balcony. God you need a coffee. It's still far too early, though, with hours left until sunrise. This is a nice time of the morning. It's peaceful, if a bit cool. At least you have your jacket.

It's so easy to lose track of time here. It's not overly busy in this small part of town, so the cars are far and few between. The sky begins to lighten before long, and soon after that, it peeks over the horizon. You allow it to wash over you, warming you as it does the earth. The book lies on a little table, and part of you wishes to get lost in its pages; a greater part of you just wants your brain to shut off, just for a while.

You've missed this. There are many things about Norway you've longed for (and things you have not), but watching the sunrise here had always been one of your favourite things. For just a brief moment in time, everything felt... pure. Untouchable. The States were so _busy_ , especially in the city. There was never any time to find peace, to stop. To take a step back and just enjoy the things around you.

When the sun gets to be a little too bright, you close your eyes. Breath deep and slow as the air gets just a little less sharp with the warmth of the day. You don't quite fall asleep, but there's a moment – a long one – where you think you almost succeed. Where time simultaneously slows and speeds up and you let your mind drift away.

It doesn't thrum with thoughts and feelings. Here, in the quiet of the morning, you might even go so far as to say you're... content.

You sit out there for another half hour, before the traffic begins increasing as people start their days. Just like that, the peace is gone. You sigh and move back into the room. Turn the heater off because it's actually _stifling_ as you start getting changed. The novelty of being in your pyjamas has worn off, and you may as well get ready for the day, too. It's not like you can put it off.

Just as you're folding your pyjamas, leaving them on the end of your bed, your stomach rumbles. There's still a good hour before Anna needs to be getting up – and you're still desperate for a coffee – so you put on your jacket and grab your phone and purse. Google Maps shows that there's a bakery about a ten minute walk away. They're open already, too.

Glancing over at Anna, she's not curled in on herself nearly as much as before; evidently the heater had done its job. Something flitters in your stomach as you look at her sleeping face, and you turn away.

Bakery. There's no need to be creepy and watch her sleep.

It feels like... this is going to be a long week.

* * *

It takes ten minutes to walk to the bakery, ten minutes to walk back, but twenty minutes to actually decide what you want.

Well, not _you_. You know what you want. But now you're here, you know that... well, Anna will want breakfast. But you don't know what she eats.

She's American, so... bagel? But you're also pretty sure that she likes sweet food. And she'd said she didn't want Subway, so does that mean she doesn't want things she can get back home and she wants to try something new?

You could buy one of everything, but she's also already made it clear that she doesn't like that. That it's not the way you should be going about things, even though you have absolutely no idea how you _should_.

In the end, you settle on a bagel. It doesn't have to be warm and they sell some sides to put on it. Jam and cream cheese and you _do_ buy them all because they're not that expensive and this way Anna has some options.

She's awake when you get back, and on the phone, so you go into the bathroom just to give her some privacy. Wash your face and pee and try not to look at the dark circles below your eyes, the skin stretched and puffy. God. You put on some make-up, but it's not nearly enough.

You come out and give Anna the bagel. It's still only early, and she looks like she wants to fall asleep again but she can't, because... "The meeting begins at eight." And you don't mean for your words to sound as clipped, as standoffish as they do. Anna starts eating the bagel, doesn't even put any toppings on it, and you disappear back into the bathroom to brush your teeth. When you return, Anna's finished eating. She's already dressed, and she seems to be ready to head out. Got her day bag all packed and ready to go, and she's just looking at you with a critical eye.

It's hard to avoid her gaze, even as you leave the room. Anna takes the lead, moving ahead of you a few feet as you lock the door. Bente's already up and at the front desk. She calls out as you pass, a "God morgen! Dere jenter er tidlig oppe. Det er en nydelig kafé hvis jentene dine leter etter et romantisk sted!"

"Vi er ikke dating, og du vil gjøre det bra for å holde nesen utenfor vår virksomhet." Every word is staccato, standoffish and icy. Bente blinks in surprise, and you purse your lips. "Beklager. Det ble ikke kalt for. Takk for at du er så snill."

Bente smiles, though it's very small, and gives you a nod in acknowledgment. She doesn't remain out in the front, though – not that you can blame her. Still! You'd asked for two rooms, and failing that, two separate beds. Why would she think anything else? And what would Anna think if she'd heard that?

Shaking your head, you move in the opposite direction and towards the door. Anna follows, mute.

It isn't until you're in the car that she speaks. You've been trying not to look at her, keeping your gaze firmly out the window, but her words make you whip around to look at her.

"Hey... are you feeling okay?"

Your eyes meet hers, and for a second... you don't know what to say. Because... you're not. Nothing's gone wrong, per se, but there's some sick sense of foreboding. Like something _will_ go wrong and there's no way you're going to be able to stop it. You'd been so excited to have Anna come with you, to share this little piece of yourself, that you hadn't actually stopped to think whether that was a good idea or not.

There's no way you can say that, though; no way you can share what you're thinking, and so you don't. You've always kept things to yourself. This is no different. And so you say, "I'm fine, Anna," without elaborating.

Because you are _fine_. Everything is _fine_. There are no problems.

Yet.


	6. Chapter Six (RB 50-51)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually one of my favourites. It goes across two chapters, because where Anna's night ended at the end of 50, Elsa's... did not. 
> 
> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapters 50 and 51, and was published on July 16, 2020

"Do you... wanna watch some Netflix with me? We can push the beds together and... I dunno... Sorry, it's a stupid idea..."

Anna looks away from you as soon as she finishes talking, and for a moment, you have no idea what to do. What to say to her. You _should_ say no. You had stumbled home after a night out while Anna had been here alone, and each moment with her since had felt strained and tense. Every time you had managed to relax throughout the day had been short-lived as you remembered what you had done. Compared how you'd spent your night versus how Anna must had spent hers.

The bruise Hilda had sucked into your throat still burns, as do the welts on your back.

You should say no... but you can't. The smile breaks through without your permission.

"That sounds nice..."

You don't give Anna a chance to say or do anything before you start moving. There's a job, and you focus in on that.

You move the bedside table from between the beds as Anna moves to her chair. She strips the quilt and you push the frames together. It's going to be weird, but it's going to work.

She excuses herself to go and have a shower once you're done, and as soon as she leaves, you just kind of... slump.

How are you supposed to do this?

Because she wants you to, is the answer. It's as simple as that. 

You move around, making sure the sheets are straight, your bag is neat. Plug your phone in and open it up and... do nothing because what can you do? The last message you'd received had been from your mother, and you don't want to talk to her right now. The message before that had been from the phone company; before that, the bank.

There hasn't been a single personal contact in over three months. 

You close the app. Almost close down your phone, too, but- you can't be doing _nothing_ when Anna comes back. It'll look so sad. So pathetic.

So you download the top free game and start playing it. You have no idea why the birds are angry at the green... pigs... but it doesn't really make a difference to the overall story. You're still playing it when Anna comes out, fresh and clean and relaxed, and you avert your eyes because you know where your mind will go and you can't think that. Not about her.

She moves to the bed, dragging her computer with her. It seems she's already got a show in mind, and though it sounds familiar, you've never actually watched it.

"So, what's this show about?"

Anna turns to you, completely horrified. "You've never seen it?" You shake your head, and she continues with a, "Oh, man, you're in for a treat. This was my entire childhood growing up."

An eyebrow lifts in confusion. She can... she can think about her childhood? In a positive way? But you don't say anything. Now isn't the time, and you don't have the courage.

So you get comfortable and try to focus more on the show than the woman next to you. You never... you never _had_ friends. Certainly not friends who were girls. Anna's your friend, and there's so much wrong with that sentence that you feel something burning in you. You hate it.

But Anna doesn't feel it. She has none of the hangups you do; it had been her idea to push the beds together. Her idea to watch something together.

You can feel her eyes on you occasionally, though you do your best to ignore them. They're only little glances, really, just seeing if you're enjoying the show. It's definitely something you wouldn't have chosen to watch yourself, but knowing that Anna gets enjoyment out of it makes _you_ like it more. When she's not looking at you, you find your eyes flicking to her, just to see how _she's_ liking it.

It sort of feels like you have something you need to talk about; last night, or when you came back, is pretty high up there. But Anna doesn't seem interested. Or, she seems to realise that you don't really want to talk about it and is happy to let it be.

And then you start noticing her head drooping, her eyes closing. You turn your head to look at her, eyes trailing from her forehead, along her nose, down to her jaw. She's got a spattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks, and usually they'd just serve to make her blue-green eyes stand bolder, starker against her skin. Usually because you can't see them right now with the lids closed.

You're only vaguely aware of the show, still playing in the background. Aware enough that you don't jump when there's a loud _bang._ You don't, but Anna does, eyes springing open. You can't help the way you grin at that, even though it's small and tiny. She frowns at you, but it doesn't seem angry, or disgruntled, or any of those emotions you sometimes struggle to notice. She lets herself sink back into the pillow, your shoulders touching as you both turn your attention back to the episode. Or, she does. You struggle.

As soon as it's over, you close the lid because... because the computer is between you and Anna is exhausted and you really want to fall asleep with her here. You fell asleep next to a beautiful woman last night, too, but for some reason, you think – you _know_ – that this will be far more fulfilling.

But Anna argues, gently, and gives a puppy-dog look that you can't refuse. 

"Don't look at me like that," you mumble, opening up the computer again. It hurts when she looks like that, directs that expression towards you. You can't fight it and yet you can't tell her why, either. She cheers, though, mood suddenly lifted; if it had been that easy, you're content to entertain her a little while longer.

'Little while' being key terms, because not ten minutes later, you see her drifting off again. You let her, and you mute the movie so it doesn't wake her up again. She's leaning against you, snoring gently, and you find you can't move. You don't want to wake her up, not for anything. This feels like... it feels like you're paying her back after giving her such a shitty night last night. Or, not a good night.

So you wait ten minutes until you're sure she's asleep before moving the computer to the bedside table and adjust the blankets so they're properly covering her. The lights get turned off andyou rest your head on the pillow next to Anna, waiting for sleep to take you...

Waiting for that gentle reprieve from consciousness once more...

....

It doesn't come.

You lie there for what feels like hours, listening to Anna breathe. She doesn't move around much when she sleeps, and maybe it's because you aren't that tired after sleeping in well beyond what you normally would. Maybe it's because you only ever share strangers' beds, and only after you're worn out and ready to drift away.

Whatever the reason, it doesn't really matter.

You could open up that bird game again, but that might wake her up. The game isn't all that interesting anyway. There's no one to call or text, and even though it hadn't been earlier, the thought feels especially sad now, in the darkness. If only sleep would take you...

... But it doesn't. It forces you to lie there, in the darkness, listening to her breathe. Your eyes slip shut as you try to fall asleep, and you feel a familiar weightlessness that tells you it's coming.

It never arrives. On that precipice of consciousness, on the very edge, you hear the squeal of tires, of crumpling metal in front of a backdrop of rain and blood, rushing through your head as you stumble from your own vehicle. The taste of bile rises to the back of your throat, the breathing of Anna next to you morphing seamlessly into that of Anna of the past, unconscious but alive as you call for an ambulance, as you fall to your knees on that cold, rough bitumen and stay near the girl, hoping she keeps breathing, just one more breath, and then another, and then another, and that she never ever stops.

It's that same breathing that has your eyes flickering open; has you scrambling from the bed, sucking in breath after breath, gasp after gasp.

It's okay, you tell yourself. She's okay.

It doesn't help.

You need to- you need to get out of here. Throwing on a pair of pants and a jacket, you pull out your phone. There's a convenience store two blocks away; you don't know what you want, but you know its anywhere but here.

They have chocolate and soda and chips but what really interests you lies behind the counter, hidden.

"Kan jeg få en pakke sigaretter, takk?" you ask the weary attendant. It's not even that late yet.

"Hvilket merke?" he asks, and God you don't know. It's been so long since you'd needed a smoke.

"Uh, Marlboro. Filtrerte. Og en lettere."

He rings you up, lighter included. You're already ripping open the plastic before you even make it out of the store.

The first drag burns as you suck it in, but it gets easier after that. Everything feels calmer, safer. You finish it and then head up to the room, still not quite ready to try and sleep again. Anna hasn't stirred, and you feel your mouth curl into a sad smile, ready to break into something worse if you don't get a fucking grip.

So you grab the alcohol from earlier, and your glass, and move out onto the small balcony. There's even an ashtray.

And then you just. Sit. Drink. Smoke. Repeat.

You let yourself lose track of everything. Time. Memories. Even your own mind as you stare blankly at the sky and watch the moon move across the inky expanse. 

You sit there and sip your drink. There's no desire for total inebriation; you just want enough to forget, for one night. You have half a dozen cigarettes before they begin to truly weigh down your chest, and by that time it's definitely late enough that you could try, again, to fall asleep.

This can't become a regular thing.

So you finish your last smoke, and finish your drink, before packing up and moving inside. Now you've stopped consuming your vices, a thick sensation settles on your tongue, so you go and brush your teeth. Anna's moved a little, and you don't even want to look at the time. Sucking in a breath, you hold it for a moment before letting it go in one long, low sigh; it takes with it some of the tension, though you can still feel it knotted around your shoulders.

God moving the beds together has been the second-biggest mistake of this entire trip so far, and it's only been three days.

The first, and biggest, mistake was making Anna feel like it was necessary at all.

But it's too late to change now, and it will be suspicious if she wakes up and you've moved, so you slide back into the bed and pull the covers up.

You can't see her freckles in the dim light. She isn't even snoring anymore. 

Would it be so bad to pretend?

Swallowing thickly, you begin moving closer, as gentle and quiet as you can so you don't wake her up. Eventually you're so close you can feel her warmth as it seeps into the bed. You lift your hands, curling them in on your own chest as you tuck your head into Anna. You shouldn't.

God this is so fucked up, seeking comfort from her; but here you don't have to listen to her breathing, not when you can feel it. You can feel her warmth and her peace and maybe that's what lets you find yours.

And this time, in that moment between consciousness... you feel content.

That's all you can really ask for.


	7. Chapter Seven (RB 83)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested a happier chapter when Elsa and Anna have gotten closer. The suggestion was thrown out there about one of the movie nights, but I found this one easier to write. Some happy Elsa for you <3
> 
> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapter 83, and was originally published on June 29, 2020.

It's so nice to be out and about with Anna. And doing something as girly as _dress shopping_. Anna looks gorgeous, and it's all you can do to keep your eyes off her. The strange thing – that is, it feels strange to _you_ – is that this all just feels so... natural. Just spending time with Anna, enjoying her company. And she's clearly enjoying yours, because she keeps smiling at you and she was the one to invite you out in the first place. Not the other way around.

Swallowing, you try to push that thought away. You don't have time to daydream, and you shouldn't even be doing that even if you did. You can't afford to lose focus. So, when you enter a boutique, you move straight towards a rack of dresses and begin searching through them. There's a frown on your face; you can feel it in the furrows of your brow, feel it in the hard set of your mouth. Anna begins moving around, having a look at what's on offer before committing to anything. Eventually, she finds some dresses to try on, and you help her by running to get different size or colours or styles.

She models for you, and some of the dresses definitely reveal more skin than you'd ever seen on her.

Can you be blamed, therefore, for getting her to try on as many dresses as possible?

Of course not.

She even goads you into trying on a few dresses yourself, but you don't show them off for her. You should, but... but that would get a little to close, right? And you're not really interested in buying any of them.

Though, you probably should. You've definitely put on weight over the last few months. It sits on your hips and your thighs, and you definitely _feel_ better. Stronger. Brighter.

Or maybe that's just Anna rubbing off on you.

Either way, the focus is on her for the entire morning, mostly. It's easy to redirect her, and you move through a few shops before finding one that is a little closer to the style (and budget) that you want. Unfortunately, by the time both your stomachs are grumbling, she still hasn't found a dress. You can't help but smile; she frowns, but it's cute.

It's cute and you can't even stop yourself thinking it, or feel bad after at the complete lack of control because it's so nice to be out here with her.

"Maybe one more dress, and then lunch?" Anna asks, and you can't help but grin and nod. You kind of want to laugh because the sound her stomach made was actually adorable, but that might be a little too much for now.

"Let's make it the best dress, then," you tell her, moving back towards the rack. So far she's been trying on things at random, but maybe it'll help if she has a better idea of what she wants. "Were you thinking of a particular colour, or style, or fabric?"

Anna looks at you and shrugs. "Maybe not something with loads of ruffles..."

The smile on your face grows even larger. "Something slinky?" You imagine her, just for a moment, in something like that. A tight little dress that shows off her freckles; braless, of course, because she absolutely has the body for it (and maybe you definitely have a type and if you're just going by, like, objective looks, then Anna definitely _definitely_ fits it to a T).

"I don't think I've ever worn anything slinky," she says, eyes narrowed in a challenge. "You might have to choose it for me."

You absolutely have a few dresses at home that you'd love to see her in, but this day is about _her_ , not fulfilling your own ridiculous fantasies. You hum in thought as you move back around the shop, pulling out dresses to have a look at the every so often.

There are a few that you discard immediately. Pink doesn't quite suit her, and if you're choosing the style, red is not the colour for her.

Or, well, it is. It _really_ is. But it's not the colour that you want her in at the Christmas party. You're not quite ready for that.

Anna follows you around the shop quietly, offering her opinions of dresses that you pull out for her. She's a little leery about certain styles and colours. You'd personally love to see her in spaghetti straps, but she's not keen. It takes an entire circuit around the shop before you see something that... just seems right.

A dark, forest-green dress made of some kind of silk – Georgette, perhaps, or Chiffon. It's tight, but wouldn't be too hard for her to move in. It has thick off-the-shoulder straps, and the bustline isn't particularly modest, but neither would it be inappropriate.

You absorb the details of the dress for a moment before looking back to Anna and trying to imagine what it would look like on her.

"What about this one?" you ask as you pull it out. The bottom flares a little more , but the bodice is definitely what you'd classify as 'slinky'. Anna holds out a hand and lets the material slip through her fingers.

"Well, it feels really comfortable..." she says, and you know that she's more than a little interested.

"Do you want to try it on?"

Anna looks up at you and smiles. "Why not?"

You take the dress from its hanger as Anna heads towards the dressing room. There's little seat on there, and as long as you take her chair out she's got enough room to wiggle her way into the dress. There's also a little seat outside, so you put your clutch down and then you just kind of... wait. Pull out your phone for something to do because otherwise it's just weird, sitting here waiting. Right?

"Hey, Elsa? Can you finish zipping me up?"

Anna's voice is a little muffled by the curtain. You swallow and stand, moving towards the changing room before pausing.

"I can come in?" you ask, double-checking. Which feels ridiculous because she's already asked you to come in.

"Yeah, I'm decent." And of course she is because she just wants you to help zip in the dress. It's an invisible zip and you try to focus more on that than on the person actually in the dress. She's got freckles along the nape of her neck, you note idly. And then, of course, you're forcing that thought away before it could become obvious on your face. Anna's not looking at you, though; no, she's looking at herself in the mirror.

"Do you want to have a look in your chair?" you ask, because she's all twisted up and it's hard to actually make a judgement call. You're looking at her face through the mirror, though she doesn't meet your eyes.

"Can... can we try something else first?" she asks. Her voice is low and small and unsure. When she looks at you, though, her expression is anything but. "Can we see what it looks like while standing?"

You can't help the way your eyes widen at the question, and maybe Anna thinks it's a bad thing because she pushes on without giving you a chance to say anything at all. "M-maybe one of the sales assistants can help?"

You swallow and nod again. "That might be good; good for balancing?"

Anna smiles and that's the only prompting you need to leave the room and go and get one of the shop assistants. One is having a rather loud argument with a customer over the phone, so you seek out the only other person available. When you return to the dressing room, you lean down so Anna can get her arm around your shoulders. It feels so simple. As you lift her up, you get a strong whiff of some soft scent, definitely coming from Anna. You hold your breath, but it's not because it smells bad; not at all. It's because it actually smells... really nice. _She_ smells really nice, which is stupid because it's also clear that she isn't actually wearing anything like perfume. There's the smell of soap and deodorant, but the rest is all her. It's almost too much.

The assistant moves to take her other side, and once she's up nice and tall, you hear Anna suck in a breath.

She looks at herself, eyes trailing up and down as she takes it all in. She's tall; taller than you'd have thought. Her arms hold on tight, a definite level of strength in her muscles that you absolutely don't have. You can't draw your eyes away because she's so fucking beautiful and she always has been. Ever since you first laid eyes on her you knew.

And, with the look in her eyes right now... it seems like maybe she knows it, too.


	8. Chapter Eight (RB 90)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations down the bottom. 
> 
> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapter 90, and was posted on July 24, 2020.

You're cursing yourself the entire drive to the restaurant. What in God's name possessed you to ask Anna to come? To meet your mother – _surprise_ your mother, really, because you haven't told her Anna's coming too.

It was just... she had sounded so heartfelt when she'd invited you out for a birthday dinner. So heartfelt, and so disappointed when you'd had to refuse.

You can't bear the thought of wiping the smile from her face, and so you'd just... spoken without thinking.

It's becoming a lot more common.

Anna catches a lift with you, and you can hardly look at her. It helps that you've got a drink, something to steel your nerves so you don't _have_ to look at her. You can look at the caramel liquid, or out the window, and pretend that your hands aren't shaking.

You can look everywhere except at her because she's dressed up for the occasion, make-up and _lipstick_ and making your mind go to all sorts of inappropriate places.

Places like just how goddamned beautiful she is, how you want to see more of her. You're completely aware of when she's not here, not with you, and in those moments you can only think about the next time you'll see her. The next time you'll hear her voice or see her smile. The next time you can curl up on the couch with her and watch a movie and pretend you're just her friend when really, she's so much more important to you than that.

You knock back the rest of your drink.

Anna watches you warily, but she doesn't say anything. She just offers a smile with those perfect lips and lets you be. She doesn't even say anything as you arrive. You give your name and of course your mother is already waiting, dressed up in a lovely blouse and skirt.

As much as you hate it, it's actually easier to ignore Anna in this moment. It's easier to _pretend_ that this is normal and fine and you're just catching up with your mother for a nice dinner for your birthday. It seems like she feels the same as she steps forward.

"Happy birthday, darling," she said, moving forward to hug you. You return it, pecking her on the cheek in a familiar greeting.

And then she looks towards Anna.

"Er dette Anna? Elsa, jeg visste ikke at du hadde med deg en gjest, minst av henne."

"Mamma, vær så snill, ikke gjør en scene."

"Elsa, jeg ville aldri! Men, du kan ser hvorfor dette er en dårlig idé."

You stop; close your eyes and sigh before indicating the table. "Shall we sit?" you say, because you don't want to talk to her about this anymore, and you want Anna to feel included in the conversation, and you really just want to get through this dinner unscathed.

Your mother leaves, just after the menus have been dropped off, to go to the bathroom. You can't help the way you just... you just _slump_ , too tired to care about propriety or etiquette. Anna does the same, though on a much smaller scale.

But then she smiles at you, this tender expression that seems to inject a little more energy into your veins.

"I should have dressed up more," she says softly, looking away. The argument is on your lips, a "nono, you look wonderful" that doesn't get a chance to be spoken before she's continuing. "I should have worn that necklace."

You choke.

She looks a little apologetic, and you shake your head – both as a response to her words, and to clear it of the thoughts that had begun to swirl there.

"You look gorgeous, Anna," you say when you can. "It's just my mom." Anna looks at you, eyes narrowed slightly. "I know she's not the warmest person, but honestly, you look wonderful." Wonderful, beautiful, _ethereal_. Words you can't say, words you can't even _find_ to express just how utterly entrancing she is.

You almost choke again when she lifts her hand to rest it atop yours, but you manage to bite back the noise. "Is everything okay with you?" she asks, genuine concern in her voice now. You're looking at her hand. It's come to squeeze yours gently now. "What was that about earlier?"

Blinking, you flip your hand, fingers entwining. Anna doesn't flinch, doesn't even question it. Her hand is so warm, and soft, and it takes you a moment to realise she's waiting for an answer. You're not sure what to say. "Oh, nothing," because it buys you some time. Then, "Just... parents getting up in my business."

Your mother has every reason to be concerned, but she's acting as though you don't _know_ this is a bad idea. Of course it is! Has been from the very beginning. But fate's a funny thing, and you can't fight it. Couldn't then, when her resume landed on your desk.

And if you couldn't then, then what hope do you have now?

But Anna doesn't know that. She just smiles, and lets out a soft snort, and says, "'Up in your business'? God Elsa, what are you, thirteen?"

It makes _you_ smile, and gives you the courage to squeeze her hand gently. 

"It's fine. Only a few hours, right? Just imagine how much fun we're going to have at this show tomorrow."

It's a date.

You're on a fucking date with your fucking personal assistant and she doesn't even realise because she's with that fuckwit of a boyfriend who probably treats her really well and is everything she needs and deserves and it's really not fair at all.

Your mother comes back, and you try to hide the fact that you were _holding hands_ by picking up the menu. You comment on the first thing you see, not even caring if it's what you really want.

You get through the rest of the dinner by not speaking and drinking. Which seems to be how you get through a lot of things. It's nice, hearing Anna talking. You could listen to her forever and ever and you don't think you'd ever get sick of it. The whole evening is actually better than you could have predicted, especially given that you hadn't even thought through inviting her properly, had just done it.

And then she pulls out a gift for you, all nervous and anxious and you unwrap it and inside is a box. It's almost entirely filled with crepe paper to protect the glass orb that sits inside. A snowglobe, but not one that you've ever seen before. Truly unique, filled with leaves and snowflakes that swirl around a photo of you and Anna together in Norway.

"The kangaroo picture is my favourite..." she says softly, and you don't even want to stop her from smiling ever again. You actually find yourself tearing up.

"I love it. Thank you," you say, and Anna just looks so pleased. Like she's so _happy_ you like it and that it isn't a stupid present.

It really, really isn't. Even your mother seems impressed – and why wouldn't she be?

Of course, the conversation changes, and your mother begins questioning Anna about her family. It's like she doesn't already know the answer, and maybe that's part of the ruse. She knows you haven't told Anna yet, so she's... she's what? Covering for you?

This is all going to come back to bite you. This is all going to end terribly, but you can't bring yourself to stress about it because... because you've found this gorgeous, sweet woman. You're _friends_ with this woman and one day with her, one glimpse of her smile – and being the reason for it – is worth dying for. It's worth losing everything for. When Anna puts her hand on yours, holding it gently, you think you've found that moment.

But then your mother notices, and your mouth goes dry.

"Elsa," she says, eyes flickering down to where your hands are connected. You pull it away immediately, but it's too late; damage done.

"Mamma-"

"Elsa, du kommer bare til å skade henne. Du vil bare skade _deg selv_."

You can't look at her. Can't look at Anna, either, so you just look at your box with your snowglobe and try not to cry because you _know_ this already but God can't she let you pretend for one night?

"I know, Mom," you say, trying not to look at Anna before moving into your native language once more. "Men akkurat nå er det bursdagen min, og hun gjør meg så _lykkelig_ , mamma. Jeg vil bare vær lykkelig."

Your mother moves around, and you can't help but flinch, waiting for her next words of anger. Of disappointment.

They never come.

She leans down, placing her hand on your back for support as she kisses you on the cheek.

"Happy birthday, my darling," she says softly. Warmly. Your eyes slip shut for a moment, and you're back in that fantasy world of pretend. Of make-believing that you're not a monster.

"Takk, mor," you say, the words more for her benefit than yours. 

"Du fortjener all lykke i verden," she says softly. "Vær lykkelig, min kjære."

Your head jerks up, the words entirely unexpected. And maybe they were all you really needed, because now it's more effort to hide the smile than force it. 

Her words mean more to you than she'll ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "Er dette Anna? Elsa, jeg visste ikke at du hadde med deg en gjest, minst av henne." Is this Anna? Esa, I didn't know you were bringing a guest, least of all her.
> 
> "Mamma, vær så snill, ikke gjør en scene." Mother, please, don't make a scene.
> 
> "Elsa, jeg ville aldri! Men, du kan ser hvorfor dette er en dårlig idé." Elsa, I would never! But, you have to see how this is a bad idea.
> 
> "Elsa, du kommer bare til å skade henne. Du vil bare skade _deg selv_." Elsa, you are only going to hurt her. You're only going to hurt _yourself_.
> 
> "Men akkurat nå er det bursdagen min, og hun gjør meg så _lykkelig_ , mamma. Jeg vil bare vær lykkelig." But right now it's my birthday, and she makes me so _happy_ , Mom. I just want to be happy.
> 
> "Du fortjener all lykke i verden. Vær lykkelig, min kjære." You deserve all the happiness in the world. Be happy, my love.


	9. Chapter Nine (RB 91)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place directly after the previous chapter.
> 
> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapter 91, and was published on September 19, 2020

"I'm sorry about my mother."

It's the first thing you say as soon as you get to the car. The box with the snowglobe is still gripped carefully in your hands; you're not sure what you'd do if you weren't holding it.

Actually, that's a lie. You know exactly what you'd do, but you can't allow yourself the freedom.

You need a distraction, and the easiest way to do that is just to simply keep talking. "She doesn't know how to leave well enough alone."

Anna blinks at you for a moment before recognition dawns in her eyes. "It's fine, Elsa," she says, but it can't be. How _could_ it be? Perhaps that question shows on her face because she looks away.  "No one's ever really asked about them before. At least, not like that. I've never really talked about it."

"You don't have to," you say, almost on autopilot. Does she _want_ to? You can't begrudge her sharing it, no matter how much you might not wish to hear it. If she's never spoken to anyone about it before, it may just be like you; bottled up, deep inside, finding ways to cope that don't ruin anyone else anymore than you already have.

But... what does it mean if the first person she shares with... is _you_?

You. The entire reason she has a story like this to share in the first place.

"It took me ages to be able to get in a car again." Anna's words are so matter-of-fact. They're not devoid of emotion, not entirely, but the way she's speaking is almost clinical. "I was thirteen. We were driving somewhere – I think I had a dance lesson. Mom and Dad were arguing about something when the other car came out of nowhere." Her voice catches at the end of the sentence, so subtle that maybe she thinks you didn't hear it. You did.

God you notice everything about her now. All you want to do is give her a hug, but it's impossible to tell the reason: would it be for her because she needs it, or you... because you want it?

It's your birthday and she's telling you the story of her parent's death. Of how you killed them. This was the only way this night could have gone, and it certainly balances out the joy and happiness you'd felt earlier. This is the consequence, this reminder.

You don't deserve to be happy.

But of course some part of you still _wants_ to be happy, and the argument you'd had with yourself earlier is for naught when you reach out and take her hand, squeezing gently. She responds, and sucks in a breath to continue her story.

"I was in a coma for three weeks," she says, still all matter-of-fact. "When I woke up, I realised that- that they were gone... an-and that I didn't have anyone. My first foster home was... terrible... but I met Kristoff at the second one. That was a good one. I got lucky – I didn't move around a lot because of... the obvious."

"You didn't have any family to take you in?" You don't mean to interrupt; you don't mean to make her remember anything more than she already has. But you have to know. Was there something that could have been done to make it better for her? If you'd just spent a little more money on rehabilitation, or made sure she was at a better hospital, or-or—

Anna interrupts your thoughts with a shake of her head. "No. Mom didn't have any siblings, and Dad's live in Wales. He never really talked about them." She sounds a little sad.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Anna." You're looking at her when you say this. You have to be. You can't skirt around this issue anymore; there had never been an apology. There'd been money. Insurance. But you'd never actually said that one little word. And you still can't tell her completely. You can't finish the sentence the way you should – the way you _need_ – to finish it. But this is a start. Maybe one day you'll have enough courage.

It's not today.

Anna squeezes your hand and tries for a small smile."It still hurts sometimes..." she says softly. "But I guess I wouldn't have met you if I wasn't in this position. So maybe some good came out of it after all?"

Oh God. Something shreds you apart, starting in your throat and tearing south, down through your heart and into your stomach. _No_ is the answer. _No good came of this_. Having her parents, having her legs, anything is better than you. She didn't deserve any of this.

Two people died that night, but it should have only been one.

"Hey, it's okay, Elsa," Anna says, and you realise that you're crying. You haven't earned the right.

You blink some more and shake your head. "You're so good, Anna," you say. "So optimistic." There's no soul, no person, more beautiful than Anna. No one more worthy of everything good in life.

There's no place for you in it.

But then she's giving a small laugh. Her hand squeezes yours again, and you focus on that sensation to ground you.

"Well... I guess I had to," she says. "I saw so many people fall to despair. Other foster kids, mostly, who just kind of gave up. I didn't want to give up. So now I'm here."

She's here and she... wants to be. It doesn't matter how much you think otherwise, Anna _wants to be here_. Wants you in her life. You've already taken so much from her; you can't take this choice away. Not now. So you nod before looking up. She's smiling, and it gives you the strength to offer a tiny one of your own. "Yeah, you are. And I'm glad you are, Anna. Thank you."

You don't expect the hug. You don't _deserve_ the hug, but once again, you can't take that choice from her. Maybe you wait a little too long, but Anna doesn't back away. Not until you respond, wrapping your arms around her and holding on tight. Your eyes squeeze shut; your heart doesn't hurt anymore. There's no better feeling in the world than being in Anna's arms.

"Happy birthday, Elsa," she says softly.

With her here... it was the best and worst you've ever had.

You wouldn't trade it for anything.


	10. Chapter Ten (RB 56)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes down the bottom! I've had this chapter on the burner for a while: Elsa's second dinner with her family while in Norway.
> 
> Extra note: I am rearranging some chapters around to keep this story in a somewhat-chronological order. This chapter will become chapter 6 at some point. Nothing is actually changing: just the order in which they appear :)
> 
> This chapter is equivalent to RB chapter 56, and was originally published on October 16, 2020.

"Going out?"

Anna's voice pierces through the still of the room, just as you're putting on your shoes. They're fancy and ostentatious and you hate them... but somehow you always find yourself dressing up whenever you caught up with your mother.

She needs to be proud of _some_ part of you, after all, even if it is your fashion sense.

You frown, and it makes Anna laugh loud enough that it drags a wry smile to your lips. Just for a moment.

"I uh—" you start, before stopping and pursing your lips. "My mother- when I caught up with my mother earlier in the week, it did not end well. Given that it may be some time before I see her again, I wanted to... well." You pause, flashing Anna a brief smile. "I'd much rather spend it here."

 _Spend it with you_ is what you don't say, no matter how much you might wish to. All you want to do is have a shower and go to bed because they're still pressed together and there's something about sleeping near another person – sleeping near Anna – that just makes it so much more restful.

Even despite the issues you had earlier, you haven't _needed_ a smoke or a drink since.

You get the feeling that's going to change tonight.

* * *

By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you're only two minutes late. Your father is already there, mother sitting next to him as they chat about whatever. It doesn't matter. They stop as soon as they see you, and you realise just how much you don't want to be here.

A lead weight settles in your stomach. You _don't want to be here_. You want to be at the room with Anna, watching another episode of Doctor What- no, Doctor _Who_ – and eating ice cream and being comfortable. This is not comfortable.

Moving forward, you try for a smile. It's been literal years since you'd last seen your father, and maybe you'd thought that, after all this time, you'd be happier to see him. He'd be happier to see _you_.

Not so.

"Du har kommet sent."

You swallow. "To minutter, far," you say softly. He just blinks at you.

"Vi har allerede bestilt til bordet. Hvis du ville velge, burde du ha vært i tide." His eyes meet yours, as though daring you to argue. It's not worth it.

"Nei, far. Takk."

He nods. God you can't even look at your mother. She never spoke up for you when you were younger; why would she now?

It's not like your father is mean or cruel or, or _abusive_. He just has these expectations. Ones that you could never hope to meet and yet he still expects it of you anyway.

At least he'd ordered wine. It's the only way you're going to get through this dinner. Your back still burns from a few days ago, the red welts beginning to bruise. At least the hickey has faded enough that you can cover it with concealer. You sigh.

Anna's seen it already, you're sure; even if she hasn't, there's no way she doesn't know what you did. Not after seeing you return in such a state.

"Elsa."

Your head jerks up and your mother speaks again. "Faren din spurte deg et spørsmål."

"O-oh. Beklager, far. Hva sa du?"

He grunted, frowning. "Du hadde med deg Anna." It isn't a question, and your entire throat closes. You couldn't take another bite even if you wanted to.

Why do family meals always end in- in _this_. In the lectures and accusations and _interrogations_??

"Ja, far," you say, because you did bring Anna and he knows that and it's a train wreck already but you need to know where he's going with this.

He nods, just once. "Du er være veldig tåpelig."

"Skal du stille meg et spørsmål?" you retort. "Eller skal du bare få meg til å føle meg som dritt?"

"Elsa..." Your mother's voice is soft, but you can't look at her right now. You refuse to show your father how much his words have cut; even though you can feel a warm pressure behind your eyes, you refuse to let him see you cry.

You have to be strong.

He puts his fork down and leans forward. "Er du _sinnssyk_ , Elsa?"

Your back straightens; your own grip on your cutlery tightens as you fight down the hurt and anger at his words. "Ikke kall meg det!"

"En tilregnelig person ville ikke gjort det du gjør!"

You stand abruptly, throwing your napkin onto the table.

"I'm done," you say. "I—"

There's nothing you can say to that.

You turn around and walk away, ignoring the way your mother calls after you. Ignore your father's silence.

Ignore the little voice in your head, telling you... maybe he's right.

* * *

You find yourself at another bar. A different bar than last time; you can't risk running into Hilda again.

The barkeep gives you a drink, and then you order another, and another. You have to go outside to have a smoke, but you're suddenly grateful you've got them.

God this entire trip has been a complete disaster. You should have never brought Anna along.

Or maybe you shouldn't have tried to see your parents. You could never be the perfect daughter they wanted, not anymore.

But you're _not_ crazy. You're just- you're just making the best of a bad situation! Right? Like you're fucked up before but this isn't fucking up, not the same way. You're trying to do a good thing – the _right thing_.

You have another drink, and another smoke before your brain runs away too much. You hadn't been looking at your father when he said that. You can imagine his look of disgust; of contempt. Whatever. 

You have one last drink, and another smoke, before calling a taxi to take you back to the hotel. The streets are quiet, and your head lolls against the seat. God, why had you gone to a bar again? Why didn't you just... go home? Go to Anna?

The answer is pretty clear, and you let your head fall to your hands. The scenery's a little off-kilter and the drive is making you feel sick.

You shouldn't... you shouldn't message Anna. Tell her you're on your way back.

You don't really want her to see you like this.

It feels like it takes no time at all to arrive back at the accommodations. There's no one in the foyer, and you walk along with a hand on the wall, down the hallway to your room.

The room is pitch dark; Anna must have closed the curtains. You move towards where you'd left your suitcase, but overstep, kicking it hard enough to trio.

"Helvete!" The curse bursts out without permission, an instinctive reaction as your toe makes contact with the solid shell of the suitcase. "Jævla helvete!" All you wanted to do was have a tolerable night with your parents and come home and not feel like shit. Was that too much to ask?

Evidently so as suddenly the room explodes with light. Anna's awake, sitting in bed and looking right at you, eyebrows furrowed.

"Ohhhhh God," you say, swallowing thickly. Your stomach turns and you can only partly blame the alcohol. Why did Anna have to wake up? Why did _you_ have to wake her up?

"Elsa?" she asks. Her voice is low, and maybe you can pretend it's concern in her tone. You don't want to think about what it might be instead.

You shake your head when it looks like she's going to speak again. You're not sure how you would cope if she said your name again like that. "Mmm-mm." Leaning down, you grab whatever clothes are at the top of the pile. "Bathroom. Back soon."

It seems important to tell her where you're going. To say you'll be coming back. It's a promise, something to be held accountable for.

You don't look in the mirror as you get changed and strip your makeup. It's an easy pattern to follow, one you've been doing for years. The familiar motions of the wipe over your face – your cheeks and eyes and forehead – help. They tether you to reality, stop your stupid anxious drunk brain from thinking too hard.

There's a moment just as you stand up to leave when you almost trip again. God you just want to burn those shoes.

But then you're out of the bathroom, and you can't look at Anna. Can't face her because... maybe your father was right. You're sick, somewhere deep inside your head, and this just further proves it.

Anna's waiting patiently for you, still sitting up in bed. She hasn't moved at all. You don't know what to say, other than, "Sorry."

There's no specific reason to apologise. It's an apology for... everything. For you. You slide into your side of the bed and don't look at Anna because it's easier not to. It's easier to pretend to be at home, in your apartment, alone. It's _safer_.

It's not good enough for Anna.

"Hey, Els..." she says. You close your eyes at the softness. "Is everything okay?"

You open your mouth to answer but find you can't for the lump that's suddenly appeared in your throat. Your chest is heavy, like you've smoked an entire packet of cigarettes at once. It's like you can't even _breathe_ , let alone move. And Anna's just waiting there patiently, waiting for you to say _something_ and you don't even know where to start.

It's only when she sighs and you feel the bed move that the chains around you loosen and you manage to force out a small, "I'm sorry."

Her reply comes immediately, but it's free of the judgement that seems to be so prevalent lately. "Why are you sorry?"

"I just am..."

It's all you can say. You're sorry about so much, _so much_ , and you don't even know where to start. Anna does not have the same issue.

"Is it because of this week?" she asks. The bed shifts again, and your entire body tenses. Maybe she notices because she stops. "Because please believe me when I say I've had a blast. It's honestly been really nice spending time with you here."

She can't... she's gotta be lying. Except Anna has never lied to you; she doesn't have a deceitful bone in her body. Unlike you. But that means... that even despite everything that's happened... she's telling the truth. That even though you've been a terrible person and an even worse boss, she genuinely _has_ enjoyed her time.

Swallowing, you give a tiny nod. "I'll remember that," you say, barely more than a whisper. Any louder and she would have heard the tremor, seen the pain. You can't let her see that.

The light turns off then, the room descending into both darkness and silence, save for your breathing. It's dark enough that you trust Anna won't see as you bring a hand up and press it against your eyes. God this is so fucked up. The bed shifts again as Anna moves, probably trying to get comfortable. You should have moved the beds back again, away from each other. You can't do this, not alone. You can't _cope_.

But maybe you don't have to, you realise, because in the same moment that you think that, you feel Anna's arms come to wrap around you. Her front presses into your back and you realise that _she's spooning you oh God_.

You bite the inside of your cheek, hard enough to force blood as your eyes squeeze shut and you try and hold yourself together through sheer willpower.

"Good night, Elsa..." she says, voice a mere whisper next to your ear.

You choke before you can bite it back. Anna's arms tighten, but she doesn't say anything. She doesn't seem to expect you to say anything, either.

And all night she stays there, arms wrapped around you. Holding you together.

You don't deserve her. You'll never deserve her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Du har kommet sent = you are late
> 
> To minutter, far = two minutes, father
> 
> Vi har allerede bestilt til bordet. Hvis du ville velge, burde du ha vært i tide = We have already ordered for the table. If you wanted to choose, you should have been on time.
> 
> Nei, far. Takk. = No, father. Thank you
> 
> Faren din spurte deg et spørsmål = Your father asked you a question
> 
> Beklager, far. Hva sa du = Sorry, father. What did you say?
> 
> Du hadde med deg Anna = You brought Anna with you
> 
> Ja, far = yes, father
> 
> Du er være veldig tåpelig = You are being very foolish
> 
> Skal du stille meg et spørsmål? Eller skal du bare få meg til å føle meg som dritt? = Are you going to ask a question? Or do you just want me to feel like shit?
> 
> Er du _sinnssyk_ , Elsa? = Are you _insane_ , Elsa?
> 
> Ikke kall meg det! = Don't call me that!
> 
> En tilregnelig person ville ikke gjort det du gjør! = A sane person would not do what you are doing!
> 
> Helvete! Jævla helvete = Hell! Fucking hell!


End file.
